“Sweetheart,” he said. “You’re hot.”
She chuckled. “Thanks. You’re pretty hot yourself.”
He gripped her arms, staring down into her face. “Marta, you don’t understand. Your skin is burning up.”
She pushed away from him, shaking her head. “I’m okay. We should keep moving.” When she took a step away, her knees gave way.
Crusher dove for her, scooped her up into his arms and took off through the jungle. He had to get to the village. The sooner the better.
“I can walk,” she argued, though her voice lacked conviction and her body remained tucked against him without her putting up a fight.
“If I’m not mistaken, the wound has turned septic,” he said softly, his lips so close to her temple that, with very little effort, he could brush them across her skin. Who was delirious now? Thoughts of kissing Marta should never have entered his mind—especially with her at her weakest and sick with infection. He gritted his teeth as he charged through the underbrush, carrying her. “We need to clean the wound and get antibiotics into you ASAP.”
“I’m fine,” she said, her words slurring slightly, her eyelids drifting downward, her lashes forming dark crescents across her cheeks. “I can walk.”
“Like hell, you can,” Crusher growled.
In the starlight, Crusher made out buildings ahead—the village. Hopefully, if they didn’t have an actual pharmacy, they might have a store where he could get antibiotic ointment and bandages.
As he neared what appeared to be a rundown shack at the back of another small structure made of plywood with a corrugated tin roof, he slowed. He lowered her feet to the ground. “I have to leave you for a few minutes. I need you to sit here until I get back.”
Marta gripped the front of his shirt and shook her head, staring up into his eyes. “I’m going with you,” she insisted.
“I can move faster alone,” he said. “You need medicine for that wrist. I’m going to find some. I can do it faster by myself.”
Still, she didn’t release her hold on his shirt. “You’ll come back?” she whispered.
He nodded. “I will,” he said. “You’re stuck with me until we deliver you to Miami.”
“Thass it?” she slurred. “Only to Miami?” Her head lolled against his chest. “I’d hoped for longer.” Her voice faded off, and her eyelids lowered over her eyes.
Crusher’s breath caught. “Marta?” He brushed the hair off her forehead.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Juss resting my eyes.”
He didn’t like that she was slurring her words. It could all be signs that the infection was affecting her entire body. “You’re going to be all right,” he said, more to convince himself than her. He lowered her to the ground, propping her upright with her back to the ramshackle shed. “Stay put. I’ll be back as soon as I locate some medical supplies.”
She blinked. “So you say.” Her brow furrowed, and she stared over his shoulder. “I thought you said the residents of this town would be asleep?”
Crusher glanced over his shoulder toward the gravel road in front of the house. Headlights cut through the darkness. A spotlight swept into the shadows, coming close to the shed behind the house.
“Get down,” Crusher said.
Marta sank lower to the ground and waited for the vehicle with the headlights and spotlight to roll slowly past.
“Think that was Vasquez’s men?” Marta asked in a voice barely a whisper.
Crusher nodded. “Probably. All the more reason for you to stay here while I gather medical supplies.”
“Nothing’s open at this time of night,” Marta noted.
“I won’t let that slow me down. But you need to promise not to leave this position until I get back.”
She held up a hand. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”
His lip twitched. “Drama much? Keep that promise unless a jaguar corners you.”
Her eyes widened. “Are there jaguars in this area?”
